Running is taking over my life...

I have a nine-month-old. Like most nine-month-olds, when we're at home, Maren wants to be where she can see me. Most of the time, this isn't a problem. She follows me around the house like my mother-in-law's miniature schnauzer (she's about the same size, too), climbing in the dishwasher, emptying wastebaskets, and eating the scraps off the floor under the kitchen table. But this morning I had an eight-mile run to get in. I dropped Bryce and Annie off at school at 7:50, and I had to have Isaac at school at 9:00 and I was determine that I'd get those eight miles done in the hour I had in between.

It didn't happen. I got a little more than three miles done. Maren was crying after mile two, and it was pitiful to hear her whimpering and banging on the door over the sound of Matt and Meredith on the Today show. So I turned off the treadmill, picked up the baby, and cuddled with her for a while. She paid for it later when I stuck her in the stroller and did five more miles (and I learned that I need to tighten the buckle really tightly so Houdini doesn't wiggle her way out). While I was on my second run for the day, I was thinking about how I feel like I'm never quite on top of the house or on top of my to-do list anymore, and I was saying to myself, "If I just had a nanny for a few hours every day I could get these workouts done without a baby who thinks hurling herself on the pavement sounds like a fine way to start a Friday morning (she didn't, she just made me think she was going to). And if I had a trainer I could work on my form and made sure I stretched and really improve as a runner. And if I had a cleaning service I would have time to run eight miles without trying to figure out when I was going to clean the house before my mom shows up tomorrow night."

I started running so I could have something to divert my attention from the constant mommyhood. It works. I love it. But sometimes I worry that I'm identifying with myself more as a runner who has kids than as a mom who runs. I've been such a hands-on mom for the last seven and a half years, that it's weird to see myself as anything other than "just a mom." So it's both liberating and scary to give myself another label. Most of the time, though, I'm just a mom who runs. Except when I'm actually out hitting the road. I'll be on the road more often than ever over the next two months. Now that the half-marathon is behind me, my mileage is picking up dramatically. I have seventeen long miles ahead of me tomorrow morning. After that, I'll spend the afternoon cleaning the house and baking brownies with my kids. To them, my running doesn't matter, but my brownies do.